


Baby Steps

by VirginiaSlim



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Bathroom Sex, F/M, Fix-It, Mutual Masturbation, POV Female Character, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:27:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25405348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VirginiaSlim/pseuds/VirginiaSlim
Summary: Joyce and Hopper share a moment before the battle at Starcourt. A short and sexy fix-it fic for how she should've asked him out.This was all they needed right now, something quick to clear the air and their heads. And closing in on third in a mall bathroom felt like a flashback to their youth; hidden away somewhere secret, barely any time to enjoy it —a reminder of simpler times and just how good they could be together if they only tried.
Relationships: Joyce Byers/Jim "Chief" Hopper
Comments: 4
Kudos: 50





	Baby Steps

After they gave the newly christened 'Scoops Troop' a head start to get to the radio tower, Hopper disappeared.

Joyce watched his quiet exit as he headed down a side hall, leaving her standing around with everyone else in the middle of the Starcourt atrium. She looked around at the rest of the group to see if anyone had noticed he was missing. Murray — codename 'Bald Eagle' — tapped his foot in nervous habit next to her, talking to himself as he reviewed Alexei's notes one last time, trying to memorize what he could. The rest of the kids, aka 'Griswold Family' were hovered around El, talking quickly and quietly amongst themselves, reviewing the plan to get back to Murray's safe house in Illinois.

It was the moment of opportunity Joyce had been waiting for to get Hopper alone. 

Looking around to make sure no one noticed, she followed Hopper down the empty hallway just as he stepped into one of the family washrooms and locked the door behind him. Joyce gave him approximately 90 seconds, and when he didn't come out soon enough, she went up to the door and knocked impatiently.

"It's me," she announced. 

There was a long pause before the tap shut off, then silence. The lock clicked, and the door opened. She heard the frustration in Hopper's voice before she saw him.

"Do you have to follow me everywhere?" 

He was obviously pissed with Joyce insisting on playing the third wheel, judging by the glower he was throwing her through the door's three-inch gap. 

"You're like a damn puppy dog," he grumbled.

Joyce scoffed. She didn't give a flying fuck what he thought — she was going with him and Murray, whether he liked it or not. Wedging her foot in the door, she wiggled her way by him, though he didn't seem to resist much. 

"Don't start," she said curtly, and then softened when she got a better look at him. He looked the same way she felt. Tired. Frazzled. Scared. 

"I _followed_ you to make sure you're okay. You seem really tense. More so than usual, which is saying something." 

Hopper threw his arms up in the air, praying to the heavens for the strength or maybe his sanity before he laid into her. 

"Gee, I wonder why I'm tense? Maybe because not only do I have to worry about leaving our kids behind to fend for themselves while we head off on a kamikaze, but now… Now I get to worry about you too," he snarled, his words getting louder and louder until he was red in the face. "I can't even tell you no because I know you'll just follow me anyway. For fuck's sake, Joyce!" 

Joyce winced at the sound of her name flying hot off Hopper's tongue. He was wound tight, and she thought he might've finally snapped right then and there, until his shoulders fell, and he closed his eyes, defeated. There was no use fighting anymore.

"I know I can help," Joyce offered and took a delicate step forward with her hands up, not wanting it to turn into another throwdown.

"How?" Hopper asked in exasperation. 

"A thousand things could go wrong! What happens if Murray can't fit into the vent? You gonna go in?" Joyce looked pointedly at him, specifically his middle, an eyebrow raised. 

Hopper pinched the bridge of his nose. 

"Fine…" Hopper drew the word out, finishing with a huff and leaned against the door.

Joyce sighed — that was easier than she thought it would be. 

"What time is it?" she asked with a shaky breath.

"Twenty to midnight," Hopper said, glancing at the Casio on his wrist, looking like he might puke. "T-minus ten to go."

A wave of adrenaline hit Joyce, and she nodded with finality. Then she turned to the sink to run her hands under the tap, wriggling her cold fingers under the warm water, just to feel something other than all her nerves short-circuiting at once. So many words flashed in her mind, all the things she wanted to say to Hopper to make it better. Not just right now, but in the long run… They had fallen so far off track the last few weeks, and she just wanted her old friend back — not this tired, angry man that she barely recognized standing in front of her. It wasn't something that could be fixed overnight, though. Joyce knew it would take a long time to mend the wounds they had inflicted over the last 48 hours. Certain walls needed to come down before they could even think about rebuilding the cracked foundation they stood on. It was a problem for another day when they didn't have to put their lives on the line. Again. 

What they needed right now were baby steps… 

Joyce glanced up in the mirror to see Hopper watching her reflection closely, and their eyes locked. They didn't have much time. It was now or never.

"Y'know, Murray's kinda right," she said, clearing her throat, finding her voice again. 

Hopper interrupted without skipping a beat.

"I told you — Murray's off his freakin' rocker. He's a bonafide conspiracy nut, always looking for the hidden truth. You really shouldn't take anything he says at face value. And he was wrong about a lot of stuff, too," Hopper added as an afterthought, not bothering to explain since she knew exactly what he was talking about. 

"That bonafide conspiracy nut is helping us save the world right now," Joyce reminded him. "And he's right about one thing, anyway — we need to stop bickering about every little thing and start communicating like actual partners, or we're not gonna survive down there." 

"Oh, wait a minute, _wait-a-minute_. Is this _your_ heart-to-heart with _me_?" Hopper rolled his eyes. 

Of course, he was dismissing her before she could finish explaining — again. Joyce pushed through the snarky reply bubbling up in her throat to get through to him. 

"I'm serious," she said, eyes wide, desperation evident in her voice. She needed to get through to Hopper. "We're constantly at each other's throats lately, and I can't think of a good reason why. Can you?"

Hopper looked away before he shook his head. _No._

"We need to be on the same page going into this. Really screw our heads on straight, y' know?" Her voice was low and steady now as she reached for the paper towels, watching for his reaction in the mirror. 

"I know," he said, finally giving up the facade. Heaving a sigh, he asked, "But what are we gonna do? Now's not exactly the best time for a sit-down conversation. We have ten minutes — less than now."

He walked up close behind her to smooth his mustache in the mirror over her head. As he leaned in, he pressed his body into hers just enough that she noticed. It was a movement almost without thought, as if he only wanted to touch her to remind himself that he wasn't alone — she was still there. 

It sent shivers all the way to her toes and back again. Joyce turned around, caught between him and the edge of the sink, and reached a hand up to cup his bruised cheek. 

"I can maybe think of something," she said, giving him a small smile. Joyce knew just the trick to get them back on track… Something that always worked for them in the past when they were at each other's throats.

"What?" he asked, brows furrowed as his tired mind tried to comprehend her actions. "What're you—?"

Joyce's heart was racing, but she pushed through the swell of nervous energy and shushed him, guiding his head down to meet her halfway. Hopper moaned into her mouth when their lips met — as if tasting something sweet — and he lifted her up effortlessly, so she was perched on the counter's edge. Teasing his gentle kiss out with her tongue, he finally opened his mouth to her willingly, and let her take the lead from there. 

And take the lead she did: fingernails raked up his chest, playing with the buttons of his shirt and the tuft of chest hair poking out from underneath, legs wrapped around his thick waist, pulling him in toward her. It wasn’t rough like she wanted it to be, being mindful of all the bruises he’d suffered in the last twenty four hours. Her touch was delicate and Hopper was nearly trembling in Joyce's arms, letting her have her way with him and enjoying every unbelievable second, when she remembered they didn't have much time. She went to work unbuttoning his jeans, feeling him stiffen up instantly under her touch. She gripped him over his jeans and smiled into his kiss.

"Mmph," Hopper mumbled against her lips before pulling away to look at her, realizing what was happening, his brain seemingly on a ten-second delay. His breath hitched in his throat, and he looked down at her like he might burst. 

"What're you doing?"

"Playing the piano," Joyce said sarcastically and then paused. "I thought you wanted this," she said, squeezing him ever so slightly in a tease.

Hopper couldn't deny that he wanted it just as bad as she did. The evidence was literally in her hands, and she had been fully aware of the games he'd been playing with her for weeks, with his recent clumsy advances. Joyce could admit the chase had always been part of the fun with him — sometimes it was him doing the chasing, sometimes it was her — but Joyce also knew that the fun always ended in one of them heartbroken. It seemed like she didn't learn the first time or the second. Or the third… But now she was a little older and a little wiser than she was the last time they played this game, and she'd been able to resist and keep him at arm's length for weeks. Playing dumb and directing him away from turning this into something romantic, despite the want that had been building inside of her.

Despite knowing it was her own pride holding her back. 

Which is how she came to the conclusion that nothing would ever change between them if she didn't take matters into her own hands like she was doing right now.

"I just thought…" Hopper held back a moan as she ran her hand over his erection. "That the next time would be different. Romantic even? Not in a mall bathroom," he mumbled, tilting his head back in ecstasy. 

"Come on, Hop. How could it be any different with us?" Joyce rolled her eyes and started to undo his fly. "Maybe it's time to admit we're destined for secret hookups and screwing at inappropriate times."

"Maybe," Hopper chuckled and stared down at her with a twinkle in his eye. 

Joyce took that as her green light and whipped off her teeshirt with a smile, throwing it beside him next to the sink. 

Hopper's hands were on her immediately, feeling her up, grabbing and pinching through her bra's thin fabric. His hands cupped her breasts, and her body responded readily. Joyce arched into his touch, and suddenly they were all hands and tongues, rushed and impatient. Feeling like teenagers all over again. 

She pushed his jeans down his ass and gave it a little slap (he still had the cutest butt she'd ever seen) before sliding her fingers back around his hipbones and down, palming him, admiring him. The sneak peek she got earlier at the cabin confirmed he was just as perfect as she remembered, so she wasn't surprised to find he felt right at home in her hand.

Hopper was frozen at first, holding Joyce by her shoulders as she worked his cock. His breaths were coming in short and shallow, and he watched her every movement before slowly running his hands down her arms and over her wrists to guide her up and down — reminding her how he liked to be touched. He twitched with excitement under their combined rhythm, needing a distraction soon or he wouldn't make it much longer.

"Fuck," he groaned, tilting his head back as her thumb dragged slow circles around his swollen, velvety tip. "The last time we did this was—"

"New Years' Eve '79, outside the Hideaway, if I remember correctly," Joyce said softly, shooting him a sly look, but not breaking pace. "It was cold, but we had a few, and you didn't seem to mind."

Hopper's whole body shuddered, and he stopped her mid-stroke. She did as she was told, holding still, while he swiftly unbuttoned her jeans and slipped his hand inside.

Joyce bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out under his touch. His eyes were fixed on hers, and calloused fingers slid against her soaked cotton panties, and she wanted him more than ever before. She pressed into his touch, desperate to feel him inside her, even though she knew they weren't quite there just yet.

_Baby steps,_ she reminded herself.They could work their way up to everything else later… If they didn't die first. 

Besides, this was all they needed right now, something quick to clear the air and their heads. And closing in on third in a mall bathroom felt like a flashback to their youth; hidden away somewhere secret, barely any time to enjoy it — and fuck, did they enjoy it—a reminder of simpler times and just how good they could be together if they only tried.

Joyce had lost her focus under Hopper's eager, persistent fingers. His swollen cock was patiently throbbing in her palm, and she finally gave him the attention he needed, bracing herself with her other hand against the sink as she grinded into him, desperate for their mutual release. She watched with pleasure as he bucked into her hands, precum slipping around her fingers as she slid her hands over him, again and again. Matching the pulse of his fingers against her clit, she found a steady beat until they were both near fever pitch, and the heat between her thighs made her practically combust when he said the words.

"Oh shit, I'm not gonna last, Joy—" 

And there it was: the mindblowing orgasm she'd denied herself for so long. The flutter built up and then melted into a sweet release all at once, and Joyce bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out. Hopper watched her face intently as she climaxed, his dark blue eyes sparkling under the harsh fluorescents. She gasped his name, and he followed her over the edge, catching her lips with his to muffle his own cries as he came in thick spurts in her hands.

The smile on his face after unleashing his load was pure bliss, and she imagined she had a similar dopey grin too. Breathing heavy, they hung off each other and took their time to part, reveling in their brief, sweet escape from reality. 

Once they pulled themselves off each other, Joyce cleaned herself up, and she watched Hopper sit on the counter to light a cigarette, looking about ten years younger. Then her eyes fell on her glowing reflection — cheeks flushed, smile plastered to her face — and for the first time in a long time, she recognized the girl in the mirror.

Hopper let her dry her hands and then pulled her in tight, wrapping her up in his arms with a satisfied hum. Joyce rested her head against his chest, and he planted a kiss on the top of her head in his old familiar way. Settling into his embrace, she sighed, strangely content despite the grave situation they were facing. 

"I guess you can take me to dinner now." Joyce shrugged into him. 

"Uh?" Hopper looked down at her, cigarette hovering around his mouth.

"You heard me," Joyce said, snatching it from his fingers and taking a puff. "How about next Friday? Pick me up at seven?" 

He took a deep breath in through his nose, catching the smoke from her exhale as he concentrated on what she was saying.

"Uh, sure. Yeah, that works," Hopper said, slowly. "And just so we're clear, this time, it's a… date?"

Joyce pushed off him and buttoned her pants back up, cigarette dangling out of her mouth as she spoke. 

"Yes, it's a date. Don't make me take it back."

"Yeah, okay, okay," he chuckled, suddenly looking at ease—the old Hopper shining through, even if for a fraction of a second.

Something banged against the door then, interrupting their ride on cloud nine and slamming them right back down to Earth. 

"Are you in there, Jim?" Murray called out on the other side, sounding annoyed. 

Joyce looked to Hopper to say something.

"Uh, yeah?" Hopper called back.

Murray heaved an exaggerated sigh and rapped on the door with both hands like a drum. 

"You were the one who wanted to get this party started. _Let's go_!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be right there," Hopper grumbled. Then there was silence as they waited for the sound of Murray's footsteps. When there wasn't a sound, they glanced at each other.

"Is Joyce in there with you?" Murray asked then, his smugness seeping through the door cracks.

"No!" Hopper shouted, regardless of the fact he was looking right at her. "Uh, Joyce's in the ladies. Down the hall," he said, stumbling over his words, not at all convincing.

"Great! Well, when you see her, tell her to hustle. _Your children are waiting._ " Murray emphasized the last point, letting them know they were caught before he walked away. 

_'Good one,'_ Joyce mouthed to Hopper, stubbing out the cigarette in the sink, throwing her teeshirt back on while he zipped himself back up. 

Moments later, when they were somewhat presentable again, Hopper held the door for Joyce, and the two lovebirds stepped back out into the fray, each with a little less weight on their shoulders. 


End file.
